


'cause it's love you can do without

by Mythologiae



Category: Exos Heroes (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Play, Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, Finger Sucking, Grinding, He's also horny for that fine ass tho, Kylock is horny for making Dorka fucking lose it, Non-Penetrative Sex, Thigh-Riding, it's not exactly friendly either, it's not quite hate-sex but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythologiae/pseuds/Mythologiae
Summary: Kylock and Dorka know how to play nice, just not always with each other.(they're like two blades- always crossing)
Relationships: Dorka (Exos Heroes)/Kylock (Exos Heroes)
Kudos: 4





	'cause it's love you can do without

  
  
A dark cloud follows Kylock after his report, and the soldiers wisely choose to give him a wide berth.  
  
Less wisely, Dorka slinks into his periphery, quiet and intent, observing until Kylock rounds on her with a snarl. His scythe at her throat stills a hair's breadth away from her skin, but she only lifts her chin, unperturbed. Despite her much smaller size, she cares little for his attempts at intimidation, and the way she looks at him, as if from a great height regardless, makes his blood boil. The corner of her mouth twitches, barely, upwards, and Kylock hisses and hooks the scythe precisely against the curve of her waist.  
  
She half-steps, half-falls into the shadows with him, the corner of her mouth dropping instantly.  
  
Kylock leers back, smug, and drags the edge of his scythe up the steel along her spine.  
  
She shudders despite herself, and presses close until she's little more than a shadow herself beneath the billow of his coat. Kylock's fingers replace the scythe, skimming the black iron with fingers curled into claws. Still, the scythe moves along her body, the flat curving beneath the swell of her ass. She jerks forward, as intended, right up the thigh he's pressed forward. Her head jerks up, golden eyes narrowed, but her lips part and all that leaves them is a throaty noise as he presses his leg up before she can speak. Her hips jerk again, slower, and he taps the side of his blade against the back of a thigh. Fingers drag up to the nape of her neck, still curled into a claw, and sink into her hair, dragging the whole of her closer still. Her breasts against his chest are a gasp away from spilling from the thin white fabric covering them.  
  
(He wants to suck a bruise into the soft, supple flesh of one, just because he can, but he knows better.)  
  
Dorka's own fingers trail up his hip, the black iron she uses as a tail coiling around his thigh, tip prodding between his legs. Despite himself, Kylock chokes, raising his eyebrows down at her. Dorka stares back, mouth definitely slipping into something like a smirk now, and simply shrugs her shoulders. Kylock coils around her, brim of his hat hiding the teeth he presses to her throat. Dorka purrs, low and soft and heady, and slides her tail a scant few inches up. His scythe slips from his grip, his hand curved around the soft swell of her ass instead, long, spidery fingers pressing slowly inward. The smug expression falls from her face instantly, lips parting and cheeks reddening as his magic slithers its way up her thigh. Her breathless exhale is a reward in and of itself, but not as much as the expression on her face and the way it fills his mind with all the filth they hide between them.  
  
(Her cheeks glow, feverishly pink, eyes glazing over, and Kylock is glad only _he_ gets to bear witness to this loss of control.)  
  
Gripping the very base of her tail, he yanks her down against him, feeling her spread against the narrow width of his thigh. Hot enough to be felt though layers of fabric, he can already tell she's _soaking_ and breathes out a low, stilted cackle against her cheek. His magic blooms, spreading across her skin, fingers hooking just outside her back entrance, rubbing lightly. The cry she gives is stifled by his thumb, fingertips still threaded through her silvery stands. Another is halted by his thumb on her tongue, which lolls out slowly as his fingers tease her through the fabric. He croons a soft, wordless noise, slipping his thumb out of the way to drag his tongue along hers if only for the shiver it elicits. Her hips have begun moving of their own volition by then and he can hear the steady, wet sound of her half-bouncing as she reaches a pace he can only call frantic.  
  
His middle finger sinks into her, a scant few millimeters, and she gasps, steadying her pace. His ring finger joins, crooking just enough to spread her a little, and she _whines_ like a bitch in heat, losing all semblance of control. Kylock wishes he could make her beg for it, as he watches her. Wishes he could plant her in his lap, on his cock, and have her plead for so much as a single thrust. He knows how this goes though- if either of them so much as speak a single word it all breaks apart. He has inklings a to why, but he doesn't care enough to bring it up. Not when this is already so much fun as it is. Besides, if he asked, she might stop coming to him for this, and as curious as he is, he can't deny the allure of watching her lose that constant, carefully-held control.  
  
Especially when she reaches down, tongue still hanging, and curls her tail around his cock to hold it steady while she works herself atop it.  
  
Dripping slow and hot around him, her thighs press against his hips while she grinds down. The thin fabric is soaked, and in no time so is his cock, twitching sporadically in her tail's harsh hold. The cloth never moves though, and so he's left to huff against her neck while she teases the both of them. Shallowly, his fingers press just a little harder, spread her just a little more. The slithering ichor of his magic coils around them and though it doesn't move, it remains, keeping her open for the continuous press of his fingers- in and out, slowly. Her tail tightens in response, and he groans, deep in his chest, at the cold ache of it.  
  
He grabs her by the hip, mouth slamming against hers as he corkscrews his fingers into that pert ass.  
  
Dorka's answering keen is exquisite, ripping it's way out of her throat only to be sucked into his immediately. The gush of heat down his length is almost instant, but it's not until she pulls away to fall breathless and lax against his thin chest that he grinds up against her clit until he cums, making her quiver helplessly, leaving her dripping even more. The sight as she falls back, boneless with satisfaction, pretty flesh flushed and visible through the fabric from the combination of their fluids, almost gets him hard again. But she looks at him, swiftly clawing toward lucidity, and the very thought dies immediately.  
  
Despite the ease with which she'd fallen into his arms, she once more looks haughty and unaffected. Pointedly, scythe once more in hand, he presses the very tip to where the outline of her clit is visible through the clinging fabric. Her flush is satisfying, but not nearly enough and Kylock turns away, already disinterested while she collects herself with ease.  
  
Later, they'll both see the Patriarch about what they plan to do next, and they'll follow her orders like a well-oiled machine. For now, however, they'll retreat to their respective tents, where Kyloc will sit, legs spread, and stroke himself one more time to the thought of Dorka and the wonderfully depraved expression she might make, if only she'd let him show her the extent of what he could do.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays exos gang


End file.
